


Silent Words

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf John, Deaf Mycroft, Developing Relationship, Johncroft, M/M, Mention of torture, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: Mycroft's hearing has been taken, and he's adrift in a nearly silent world. He signs up for sign language lessons to find something, and does. He finds a soldier who is just as adrift, and together, they make something more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Neither of the authors is deaf, and only one of us signs. If we've messed up or written something offensive, know that it was unintentional, and we will do our best to fix it as soon as we are notified. 
> 
>  
> 
> For Clarity: 
> 
> Written Word: Italicized  
> Signed Word: Bolded  
> Spoken or Mouthed Word: Normal text.  
> Signed and Spoken Word: Normal text

 Mycroft sighed and looked up at the building. He knew hearing loss wasn’t the end of the world, that he was lucky to be alive, and the loss of most of his hearing was a small price to pay. But he still couldn’t quite get used to London being nearly silent. It felt wrong. At least he could learn to communicate again. His speech never quite sounded right now, Anthea had confirmed it for him. He had a tutor, even though in all honesty he could probably have learned it on his own. But the truth was he didn’t want to be alone right now. 

John rushed into the building, and to his designated space, only to find that Mycroft Holmes, his new student, for lack of a better word, was already waiting. "Hello?" he both said and signed, wondering which Mycroft would pick up upon.

Mycroft could already read lips, a skill he'd picked up as a child. He attempted to copy the sign John had just made. "Hello."

John smiled, and gestured for Mycroft to take a seat at the table. He took out a pad of paper and a pen. _You read lips, but can't sign, yeah?_

 Mycroft took the pen. _That's correct._

_So you're "hear" to learn how to sign, and to modulate your voice, right?_ John grinned.

Mycroft groaned at the pun. _Yes_.

_Then let's begin. Watch my hands and guess what I say._ John set the pen down and signed a simple **I am John.**

  _Your name.  
_

  _Good! I am John. Your turn._ John passed over a sheet with the alphabet and its matching hand positions.

 Mycroft took it all in with a glance. "I am Mycroft."

 "You know the alphabet already?" John asked.

 “I learn fast.”

 "Oh. Well, let's move on to basic signs, then," John replied.

 Mycroft found himself relaxing with John. He knew the man’s record of course. Wounded in Afghanistan, left deaf from a bomb and then shot in the shoulder. Mycroft’s own records merely stated that his hearing loss had been an accident, they said nothing of the terrors that woke him up at night.

 "Okay," John said and signed. "Try to tell me goodbye and thank you. I think our time is up for the day."

 "Thank you and farewell." Mycroft smiled at him.

 “Very good. I’ll see you next time,” John said and showed him out.

 **

 Mycroft observed John Watson over the next few sessions. He could see things were difficult for him, but he did his best to pretend they were fine. Mycroft understood that intimately. He found himself reluctant to learn too fast.

**No.** John signed. “Your fingers need to change position a little.” He reached out and took Mycroft’s hands, molding them to the correct shape. **Good.**

Mycroft tried the sign again and looked to John for confirmation. 

John grinned. “Good job. Now, the whole sentence again.”

Mycroft looked at his hands as he spoke before looking to John for confirmation.

“Well done. You’re almost a natural,” John said, patting Mycroft’s hand.

Mycroft blushed slightly at the touch. "Thank you."

 John blinked at the blush, and took his hand away. "We have some time. You have any, um, questions in particular?"

  **Would you like to go to dinner?** signed Mycroft.

  **Why not?** John signed, smiling at him. **Tonight?**

 "I can have a car pick us up."

“That would be really nice,” John said. “But don’t you mean cab?” He demonstrated the sign.

"No. A car. If that's okay?"

 “That’s fine,” John said. He was curious, but assumed that Mycroft knew what he was doing. “Let me go get my jacket.”

 Mycroft nodded and texted, also asking for a table at one of his favorite restaurants.

John came back in, setting a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder so his reappearance wouldn’t startle the other man. “How long?”

 “Ten minutes. And I have a dinner…” he tried to think of the word. “Reservation,” he said, hoping John could read his lips.

 John nodded, then showed him the sign, repeating the word. “Reservation for two,” he said and signed, then smiled.

Mycroft copied it and nodded before gesturing to the door, hoping he was reading John the way he thought he was. Without being able to hear the tone of voice, it made thing a bit more difficult sometimes.

John followed him out, blinking at the black car that pulled up. He gestured to it questioningly, and Mycroft nodded, holding the door open for him. John shrugged and slid in, wondering if he might be just too underdressed for Mycroft’s normal place.

 Mycroft gave him a reassuring smile. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked. Not that he hadn’t read John’s file, he just wanted to know what John would tell him.

 “Lips or hands?” John asked.

“Both?”

John chuckled, and started to tell Mycroft his past. How he’d grown up in London, entered the military. Had his hearing blown out by a bomb, and then been shot as he was laying on the ground in shock, trying to convince his body not to bleed out. He frowned at Mycroft’s look of concern, cracking a joke to try and make him smile.

 Mycroft reached out and touched his hand. “You’re a brave man.” He struggled to sign it.

John shrugged. "Did what I had to," he signed and said.

“Mine was an accident,” said Mycroft.

 "Can I ask what happened?"

Mycroft nodded. He had a cover story of course. “Auto accident. Had to spend some time in hospital afterward, only recently got out.”

John frowned. "How bad was it that you lost your hearing?" he asked, concern flitting over his face.

“Very. I almost didn’t survive. I had a lot of internal injuries.” And it was true, they’d sought more to destroy his body then anything else. Hearing had been one of the last things they’d taken before he was rescued. He shuddered at the memory of his own screams. “Was thrown around quite a bit and the vehicle exploded. Luckily I’d been thrown clear enough to avoid the worst of the flames, but still close enough that my hearing was irreparably damaged.” He hoped John could follow along with his lips.

**I'm so sorry** , John signed, and then reached out, squeezing Mycroft's hand gently. "You're okay now?"

 “As much as I will ever be,” said Mycroft, more or less the truth. At least he could work again, though he’d been offered a pension and retirement package. He’d refused it. Just because he couldn’t hear didn’t mean he couldn’t do office work. He was still better than anyone at analyzing the data.

John smiled. "Then I am happy for you." He looked out as the car stopped. "Are we here?" He asked, looking out at a nondescript building made of smoky brick. "I don't know this place."

“It’s rather private. I hope you will like it,” Mycroft signed and spoke, getting out and leading the way inside.

John followed him inside, stepping in to what reminded him of an Italian grotto. He couldn't help but smile as they were led to a private table and the chairs pulled out.

"It's gorgeous In here," John said once they were facing each other again. 

"Glad you like it." Mycroft smiled at him again.

 "Is this the kind of place with no menus?" John asked, then glanced around. "Cause I'll be honest, I'm not sure my wallet will support this," he said awkwardly. "Fine for tonight, but not if we make a habit of it."

 "I picked the restaurant. This is my treat."

"All right." John smiled at him as a waiter came by, and began to say something in rapid quick fire Italian. John raised his eyebrows, wondering if Mycroft would be able to keep up.

 Mycroft had a little trouble, but he'd been here enough to puzzle it out. "We'll have the special," he said in Italian. "And wine. Tell Reynaldo, Mycroft is here."

 "Yes, of course sir." The waiter departed and John raised his eyebrow. 

"Reynaldo?" he asked.

 “The chef.” The waiter returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and showed it to Mycroft. Mycroft shook his head and named a better wine. The waiter bowed and went to fetch it.

John watched open mouthed. "Mycroft? Have I asked what you do for a living yet?"

“Minor government official,” he said with a smile. “I forgot to ask, do you have any food allergies?” He knew John didn’t, but he should have asked anyway.

"No," John replied. "Ah, right then. Tell me about yourself?" John asked. "You can practice signing it at least."

“Not much to tell. I was on track to move higher in my career when the accident occurred. They offered to pension me out, but I refused. So now I simply deal with paper.”

 John nodded. **No family?** he signed.

“Brother, younger. Parents. You?”

“One sister. Parents are gone.” John shrugged.

 “We’re both very much on our own.” Mycroft nodded as the waiter brought out the fresh bottle of wine and poured them each a glass.

“I guess so,” John said. He hesitated, then,”But you must have friends to support you, right?”

“Not many, I’m afraid.”

  **Well….You have one more** , John signed, and then smiled at Mycroft. “That okay?”

 “Quite. I am glad for you.” Mycroft knew his heart felt a bit more than friendship for John Watson, but he wasn’t about to press his luck.

“Have I told you about how to name people yet?” John asked.

Mycroft shook his head.

“So a lot of the time, you would develop your own sign so that people in your friend group will understand who you’re speaking about,” John said, signing and speaking slowly. “For example, the chef’s name, Reynaldo. Try the letter R and then the sign for eat.” John demonstrated.

 Mycroft tried it, watching John.

“Perfect,” John praised. “So now, you can refer to him as that, instead of spelling it out to someone who doesn’t read lips.”

 “What should I call you?”

“You have to decide,” John replied with a smile.

“What’s the sign for soldier?”

John demonstrated, watching Mycroft as he mimicked the sign.

Mycroft thought about it for a moment, then signed a combination of soldier and kind.

 "I like it," John said, face heating slightly.

 “Do you have friends to help you? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Mycroft watched him closely.

 "Friends are...limited." John replied. " Not many people stick around when you go to war. And I'm not seeing anyone. You?"

"Only you," he smiled boldly, hoping John would understand.

"Right," John said, clearing his throat as the waiter reappeared with their food. Surely Mycroft wasn't insinuating what he thought. It would be foolish to assume.

Mycroft smiled at him and sipped his wine. The food was bubbling hot and smelled as wonderful as ever. He reached for his fork, only to hit the side of the tray. In the instant it took for the sensation to reach his brain Mycroft had ducked down, back _there_ in the space of a heartbeat.

John jumped as Mycroft slammed himself under the table. He wasn't sure what had happened, but from the harsh breathing, it sounded like a panic attack. John pushed his chair back and went down on his knees, not reaching out yet, confusion apparent.

Some part of Mycroft knew he was being ridiculous. He was in London. In Reynoldo's. But he couldn't stop the way his body shook, the memory of _heatpainburnsilence._

 John swore as Mycroft began to shake, hesitant thoughts solidifying into _not a car accident._ He crawled further under, settling in Mycroft's sight line and beginning to sign in hopes he'd see.

Slowly Mycroft's vision focused on John's hands. **Safe. You're okay.** He reached out and put a hesitant hand on John's knee to ground himself.

John nodded encouragingly, still signing.

Mycroft took a few more deep breaths like he'd been taught, bringing his heart rate down. **I'm sorry** **_,_ ** he signed with a shaking hand.

**It’s okay. You’re okay,** John signed back, then reached out, scooting closer and taking Mycroft’s hands in his own, squeezing them gently.

Mycroft took the comfort for a few long moments, then pulled away. "I'm afraid I ruined our date."

“Oh good,” John said, smiling at him. “It was a date.”

"You didn't think it was?" asked Mycroft, flushing and wondering if he could make a quick exit. He'd done more than enough damage already.

“I’d hoped, but didn’t want to assume,” John said, reaching out for Mycroft’s hands again. “This used to help me,” he said, and began to press Mycroft’s fingertips to his palm one by one, before opening them again. “Focus on the pattern.”

Mycroft did so, finding himself slowly relaxing and the shakes stopping. He swallowed and climbed back into his seat, taking a gulp of water.

John emerged as well. “Drink slowly,” he signed. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Mycroft nodded and slowed down. "Eat. It's very good."

John reached out, tasting the food. “Very good,” John replied, smiling. A man dressed in a chef’s uniform came out as they were eating, greeting Mycroft warmly.

"Reynaldo. Thank you for the wonderful meal," smiled Mycroft.

 “I had hoped you would enjoy it,” Reynaldo replied, patting his stomach. “It is filling, si? And who is this? Do you like my meal?”

John chuckled. “It’s very good.” 

"This is John Watson. John, chef Reynaldo."

“Ah!” Reynaldo reached out, shaking his hand. “A boyfriend, or just a friend?”

John smiled. “Ahm...Mycroft, did you catch that?”

"I did. And I suppose that is up to you."

**Well...I’m technically your tutor,**  John signed. **But I don’t see why not.**

"My boyfriend, Reynaldo." Mycroft felt an odd tingle down his spine

John grinned as Reynaldo chuckled. “Very good. Dinner on the house then. I will bring more wine.” He waved his hands and left.

“Boyfriend? Shouldn’t we start with dating?” John asked.

"I thought we agreed this was?"

John grinned. “Right again. Are you always?”

"No, not always. Thank you. For that."

“It’s fine,” John said. He bit his lip, and began to sign. **If you can’t say, I understand. But. I have panic attacks too, sometimes. It’s better to talk about them.**

 Mycroft started to repeat the lie but stopped. "Not here," he said. He knew John's security clearance.

 John frowned, but nodded in understanding. **Later,** he signed.

Mycroft nodded and went back to eating, sipping his wine.

John did the same, and soon enough, Reynaldo was entering again, bringing them a dish of gelato to share. “Only for the happy couple, I make this myself,” he said, clapping his hands together before departing. John picked up a spoon, and hesitantly scooped some up, offering it to Mycroft.

 Mycroft smiled and accepted the bite, offering John one in return.

 John grinned back at him, and took it, his own moan vibrating in his throat, though he couldn’t hear it, at the burst of flavour.

"Reynaldo is a master," smiled Mycroft, watching him. He watched John's lips, and not only for his words.

“I hear what you’re saying,” John said, winking at Mycroft. “It’s wonderful. Tonight was...is wonderful.”

"I'm glad you feel that way."

 “Not even a smile?” John asked, pretending to be hurt. “That was a great joke.”

Mycroft smiled at him and brought his hand to his lips and kissed it.

John bit back a flush. "You're a gentleman, aren't you?"

“I do my best in any situation that requires it,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

John raised an eyebrow, smiling. “ _Any_ situation?”

“Almost any. That requires it.” He licked the spoon clean, watching John’s face.

“We’ll have to test that,” John said, wetting his lips.

 “My place or yours?” Mycroft could hardly believe he was entertaining this thought. But if he was honest he’d missed human company and wanted more of John’s company particularly.

"Yours?" John asked, barely able to entertain the thought of Mycroft in his dreary bedsit.

Nodding, Mycroft pulled out his mobile to text his driver. This wasn't like him, but damnit he was alive, he could have the excellent doctor in his bed.

John set his spoon down, lust boiling in his belly. It had been too long since he shared a bed, too long since he felt someone under him and above him.

Mycroft reached out and took John’s hand, tugging him towards the door, smiling and waving at Reynaldo on the way out.

John couldn’t help but chuckle as Mycroft all but tugged him to the car. They climbed in and John waited until they started up and then slid across the seat, straddling Mycroft’s lap. “What do you like?” John asked, placing his hands on Mycroft's chest, glancing at his lips.

“Either way. I don’t trust easily. But I trust you.” He ran his hand up John’s back and tangled one in his hair.

John let Mycroft guide him forward, pressing their lips together.

Mycroft moaned into the kiss, feeling John’s moan in response. This was different, but it was good. And John was just as aroused as he was

John pressed against Mycroft’s stomach, letting his interest show as he shifted his hands up, cupping Mycroft’s face.

Mycroft smiled up at him before going back to kissing, letting one hand drift down to John’s arse.

John pressed into Mycroft’s hand as it teased at his waistband, breaking the kiss to mouth at Mycroft’s neck with a low groan.

It was so strange, not being able to hear his lover (or soon to be lover). Mycroft tried not to focus on that, focus instead on the feel of him in his hands, of the heat on his throat. He was rather glad his home wasn’t too far away.

John brought his head up, meeting Mycroft’s eyes. He smiled, and dragged a thumb over Mycroft’s cheek, before kissing him again, this time slower, more searching.

 Mycroft moaned and parted his lips to him, loving the feel of John’s tongue slipping into his mouth, exploring, tasting.

John thrilled at the reverberations of Mycroft’s moan, and tilted his head, hand sliding around to twist his fingers in the could-be-curls of Mycroft’s nape.

Mycroft gasped against his lips, rolling his hips. It had been a long time since he’d been so very aroused.

With a regretful look as the car stopped, John pulled away, only to send Mycroft a heated glance as the door opened.

Mycroft led him inside, not giving him much of a chance to look at the outside, shut and locked the door and smothered him with another kiss.

“Christ,” John muttered, grasping Mycroft’s hips. He grinned as they broke apart for a breath. “Mycroft,” John said carefully, making sure Mycroft was watching his lips. “Bedroom?”

Mycroft nodded and took his hand, quickly leading him up the stairs to his bedroom. Once they were safely ensconced he reached for John’s jumper.

John let Mycroft pull his jumper off, then his shirt before crowding him against the edge of the bed. **Sit** , he signed and then slid his hands over Mycroft’s chest, pushing his suit jacket off. He laid it to the side and began to work the buttons open of Mycroft’s shirt.

Mycroft felt almost drunk between the wine and the desire. “John,” he said and signed, watching him.

“What do you want?” John asked, pulling Mycroft’s shirt open. He met Mycroft’s eyes and pushed, tumbling him onto the bed and following him down. “Tell me.”

“I want you…” his hands failed him. “Fuck me,” he said, parting his thighs and hoping he’d get the message.

John smirked, and demonstrated the sign Mycroft was looking for. “Supplies?” he asked. 

Mycroft pointed at his bedside drawer and repeating the sign.

John nodded, and moved. He pulled open the drawer, tossing a nearly full bottle of lube and two condoms onto the bed before coming back over, dropping his trousers and climbing on to the bed.

Mycroft pushed off his own trousers and licked his lips, looking up at John, cock standing proudly.

“No pants?” John said, straddling him, the plain cotton of his own briefs rubbing deliciously against Mycroft’s thighs. **Bad boy** , John signed, smirking down at Mycroft.

"Going to punish me?"

John's breath caught. "Maybe?" he said in reply, hand slipping between them and taking Mycroft in hand.

Mycroft arched against his grip, feeling himself panting already with need. John was strong and beautiful. He wanted to surrender, knew he was safe here.

"You're gorgeous." John stroked him once more and then released him, grabbing one of the condoms and rolling it over Mycroft's cock in a swift movement. He wiggled down, and pushed his own pants off, before taking himself in hand. With one glance up at Mycroft, he swallowed him down, tongue teasing through the latex cover.

Mycroft cried out and grasped the headboard. It was still strange not to hear the sounds, but the it felt so amazingly good that he could hardly stop and think about it. It was like everything else was heightened, even through the condom

John moaned around the cock filling his mouth, stroking himself slowly. He didn't want Mycroft to come, but he'd take them both to the edge before he'd pull away. Spend time teasing Mycroft open with his fingers until they were both panting with want.

Mycroft spread his legs, wanting John to touch him and work him open. He reached down and rest one hand in John’s hair, not pushing, simply letting him know he was there.

John pulled off and pressed a kiss to Mycroft's thigh, before fetching the lube and settling down again. He looked up, checking with Mycroft as he pressed one finger against him.

Mycroft nodded vigorously, wanting more.

 John pressed in, making sure Mycroft was alright before he dropped his head back down, taking his cock in his mouth again.

Writhing slowly underneath John, Mycroft lost himself in the moment. There was no danger, nothing to hurt him, just a man who wanted him and was enjoying being with him. And it felt amazing.

"Mycroft," John murmured, pulling off and pressing his lips to Mycroft's throat. The redhead's eyes were closed, and John had managed to stretch him with three fingers before withdrawing, and rolling the condom onto his cock. "Mycroft," John repeated, knowing the vibrations could tell Mycroft his worshiping tone. "Ready?" he asked, lifting his head and waiting for Mycroft to open his eyes before he repeated the question.

Mycroft blinked and looked down at him, reading John's lips. "Yes. Take me." He cupped John's cheek and kissed him.

 John reached back, sliding his hand down Mycroft's leg, hitching it up as he lined up. "Bear down," John murmured from habit and pushed 

Mycroft sucked in air as John worked his way deeper. He wrapped his legs around John's hips. "Yes. More."

John obliged, pressing in with a steady pace until he bottomed out. “Okay?” he asked.

Mycroft nodded and leaned up to kiss him.

John licked his way into his mouth, rocking deeper.

Mycroft groaned against him, running hands down his back.

John pulled away, bringing his hands up to cup Mycroft’s face. “I want to do something,” he said, waiting for Mycroft to catch his lips moving.

"What do you want to do?" Mycroft was already panting heavily. He reached out and touched John’s lips.

"I want this," John said and rolled them over, so Mycroft was straddling him. **I want to hear you,** John signed, Mycroft able to see his hands and reply with the new position. "Talk to me. Ride me."  

**You're beautiful,**  Mycroft signed, moaning. "Good. My John."

**So tight, beautiful man,** John signed, thrusting gently up.

**Happy** , signed Mycroft, smiling down at him. **You make me happy.**

 John mimicked his signs, telling Mycroft the same. He grinned. "Ride me? Make me even happier?"  

Mycroft’s grin turned wicked as he began riding John hard, bracing himself on John’s chest.

John groaned loudly, feeling the noise echo in his chest. He reached out, putting one hand on Mycroft hip, the other on his cock, stroking him hard and fast.

Mycroft gave a sharp cry and came over his hand in moments, squeezing around John.

John brought his hands back, signing quickly. **Can I keep going?**

Mycroft nodded, and tugged them to roll over so John was on top again.

"Hard," John warned and began to thrust in, idly recalling the slap of skin on skin and what it used to sound like.

Mycroft closed his eyes and focused on the sensations, the way his body still trembled from his own aftershocks, the feel of John slamming into him. The pant of John’s breath against his skin and the heat of his body.

John whined, face contorting as Mycroft tightened around him, hips stuttering as his orgasm struck him, washing over him in a wave of pleasure.

Groaning, Mycroft pulled John close, rubbing his back as he came down from his high.

John pressed his lips to Mycroft’s neck, feeling the vibrations of his noises. “I wish I could hear your voice,” John muttered, knowing it didn’t matter.

Mycroft cupped his cheek and pulled him up so he could see his lips. “What did you say?”

“It’s nothing,” John replied, smiling gently at him. “Hold on.” He pulled out, careful not to go too fast and pulled the condom off, taking Mycroft’s as well, knotting them and tossing them into the trashcan. He laid back down, tugging Mycroft into his arms for a kiss.

 Mycroft kissed him in return and settled against his chest, drifting off.

John nudged him as he noticed Mycroft falling asleep. "Hey. Do you want me to stay or leave?" he asked, not wanting to outstay his welcome. 

**Stay,** signed Mycroft. **Please?**

John nodded and pet his hair as Mycroft curled against him again.

Mycroft drifted off. For most of the night he was fine, but somewhere close to dawn the nightmares came again and he woke up with a shout that he was immediately glad John couldn’t hear.

 Mycroft’s jerk brought John out of his sleep, and John sat up, looking at him as he reached out for the light. Then he gently touched Mycroft’s arm, making him jerk again. “Mycroft?” John asked, signing gently.

**I’m sorry,** signed Mycroft before wrapping his arms around himself and trying to calm his racing heart.

**It’s okay** , John signed back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare,” he said, not sure what the sign was.

John demonstrated it slowly. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Mycroft copied the sign. “Same as the reason in the restaurant,” he said.

“I saw your scars,” John said hesitantly. He met Mycroft’s eyes. “I will not tell anyone.”

Mycroft looked at him a long moment, then moved closer and took his hands, speaking slowly so John could read his lips. “I was tortured.”

“Your job?” John asked.

Mycroft nodded. “I cannot give details of course. But I was captured.”

“And that’s why...they took away your hearing,” John said, reaching out and cupping Mycroft’s face. “Didn’t they?”

“Among other things, but yes. I would not turn over the information they wanted, and when beating me didn’t work, they took more extreme measures.”

“I’m sorry, “ John said. “That’s terrible.”

Mycroft shrugged. “It’s done,” he said, making the sign for finished. “All I can do is try to live.”

“And you will be fine,” John said. “In the end, we’re all fine.”

“I have nightmares. And panic attacks. Sometimes I can’t sleep or eat at all.”

 “I was the same when I came back,” John replied. “I still am sometimes.”

 Mycroft reached out and cupped his cheek. “I am glad for you.”

John shifted, turning to face him fully and crossing his legs. “Do you know what helped me sometimes? To calm down.”

“Besides the hand pattern?”

“Besides the hand pattern,” John confirmed.

“Go on, then.”

John lifted Mycroft’s hand, pressing it to his throat. “You can feel the vibrations right?”

Mycroft nodded.

“Well. What’s a song that you heard as a child?”

 Biting his lip, Mycroft thought for a moment and named one.

“What are the lyrics?” John asked. “Come on, don’t be shy. Not like I can hear if your singing is bad anyway, right?” He grinned.

Mycroft gave a wan smile and started singing.

John picked up on the second verse and copied him, pressing Mycroft’s palm tight to his throat.

Mycroft smiled bigger, watching John, feeling him sing. He wondered what John’s voice sounded like.

John smiled back, watching the shadows in Mycroft’s eyes fade away. “Better?”

 Mycroft nodded, then leaned in to kiss him gently.

 John moaned against him, and cupped Mycroft's face.

 Mycroft pressed him back on the bed, sipping kisses as he lay over John, feeling his body underneath him.

 John moved his hands to Mycroft's hips, letting Mycroft have control, gently rocking his hips up as his cock stirred.

Mycroft moaned, letting himself be lost in the pleasures beneath him, letting himself focus only on John.

John sighed, twining their legs together.

“I could fall in love with you,” whispered Mycroft against John’s throat.

John felt Mycroft murmuring, and stroked his hair questioningly.

 Mycroft raised his head and kissed him again, feeling his heart ache for John. He’d rarely allowed himself to feel much emotion before. But this...this was different.

 “Mmmm, My,” John said, nudging Mycroft’s head up so he could nip at his neck. **More?** he signed.

“What do you want?”

  **Do you want to have sex again?** John signed, watching him.

“If you do.” Mycroft frowned, worried he’d misread the signs.

“Yes,” John replied, leaning up and kissing him. “How?”

Mycroft relaxed into his touch before raising his head. “I’m flexible.”

"Do you want to fuck me?" John asked. "Or change positions?" 

“I think I’d like to fuck you this time.”

"I'm yours as you want," John replied.

“Do you want to keep using condoms?”

"I always have," John said. "Doctor. It's ingrained." He slid a hand up Mycroft's back. "What's your opinion?"

“I’ve rarely slept with anyone, but if you’d feel more comfortable, I don’t mind.” He kissed John and reached for one and the lube.

"Rarely, huh?" John asked. "Maybe...maybe another time. There will be one, right?" he said, looking at Mycroft.

“Absolutely.” He coated his finger and slid them down to tease John. “How do you like it?”

John grinned. "Slow," he said. "But hard. Want to feel every inch."

"I can do that," said Mycroft, pushing in his fingers.

John moaned, dragging Mycroft down for another kiss.

Mycroft licked into his mouth as he fingered him.

John reached down, pulling gently on Mycroft's cock with a smirk.

Mycroft groaned and rocked against his hand.

"Can't wait to feel you," John muttered. 

Mycroft smiled against his kiss and raised his head. **Hot,** He signed.

**Who me?** John signed back, winking. **Have you seen you? Beautiful man.**

 Mycroft added another finger and watched his expressive face.

  **Beautiful Blue Eyes,** John signed shakily. "My sign for you."

 Mycroft felt tears sting his eyes. “God, John.” He leaned in and kissed him again, withdrawing his fingers and lining up, running one hand through John’s hair as he pressed into him.

 John let a slow, heavy breath out as Mycroft filled him, body adjusting to something he hadn't felt in a long while. He smiled into the kiss, and reached down, cupping Mycroft's arse and encouraging him deeper, bending and spreading his legs wide.

Mycroft groaned and kept going until he bottomed out, holding himself there to give John a chance to adjust.

John nodded and pulled his head back so Mycroft could see his lips. "Move, gorgeous. Want to feel you."

 Nodding, Mycroft took John’s wrists and pinned his hands next to his head, setting up a rough pace.

John arched into him, attempting to get friction on his leaking cock with a moan.

Seeing his need, Mycroft shifted to hold his wrists with one hand and take his cock in hand with the other.

 John bit back a gasp, rocking into Mycroft's palm with a satisfied laugh. "God, yeah."

 Mycroft couldn’t hear it, but he could see John’s laughter and it warmed his heart even more as he took this marvelous man.

John moaned, jerking as Mycroft struck his prostate. "Again!" he said hoarsely.

Mycroft read his lips and groaned. He and drove in again and again, hitting the spot with unerring accuracy.

John buried his face against Mycroft’s shoulder, panting. He squeezed his biceps in warning, already close.

Mycroft groaned and thrust a few more times, feeling John come between them. Mycroft followed him over a moment later, clinging to him and feeling John’s harsh breath against his ear.

John shifted slightly, looking at Mycroft’s eyes and smiling. “Good.”

“Good.” Mycroft kissed him again, tenderly, hoping he could show John just how he felt.

John slid his hands over the man's sides, closing his eyes to simply feel their connection, the press of their bodies together. He smiled again. “Sleep?” he asked, opening his eyes to see if Mycroft had caught it. 

Mycroft nodded. He carefully pulled out and tucked John against his side.

John cuddled into him, kissing his throat, dozing off as Mycroft did the same.

   
**

 John stretched, pausing as he realized he wasn't home, and that there was another person with him. He turned, smiling as the events of the previous night came back. 

Mycroft stirred and opened his eyes, studying John’s face. **Okay?** he signed.

John nodded. **Very okay,** he signed back. “I’m happy.”

“You make me very happy. Safe.”

 “Thank you. You make me too.”

Mycroft kissed him gently. “I look forward to a long partnership,” he said with a smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)


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